


What It Takes

by SingManyFaces



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Id Fic, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Suitless Darth Vader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 15:10:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21076949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingManyFaces/pseuds/SingManyFaces
Summary: The new Empress Tano thinks about the messy emotions that lead her to the position.  Set less than 10 years after the rise of the Empire.





	What It Takes

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this fic the epic duel on Mustafar didn’t happen. It has no impact on the story, but Obi-Wan is in hiding with both twins here.

It was raining on Coruscant that night, the sound of it against the floor-to-ceiling windows drawing her from the bed. Even after months it was hard for Ahsoka to think of the room as hers—it had once held the meeting chairs of the Jedi Council, then the Emperor’s throne. Now it held her bed. Sometimes she wondered if she would ever get used to the idea.

The transparisteel was cool beneath her hand as she stared out, easily losing herself in the memory of another rainy night—it hadn’t been that long ago, but it felt like another life. Part of her had always known that Vader would find her, that Fulcrum would have to fight her fallen Master. She had even prepared herself, much as she could, for him to strike her down. In her circles he had become known, and feared, as the Emperor’s mad dog for a reason, but even so she...she had known she wouldn’t be able to kill him.

What she hadn’t been prepared for was the spilling of emotions during the fight, the words they’d hurled back and forth over the snap-hiss of their clashing blades; her throat had felt hoarse from it. Their duel had reached a standstill—again—scant meters separating them as they’d stood panting beneath an overhang, sabers still raised but drooping. “Why?” was what she’d kept coming back to, needing to understand; she’d lost track of how many times the word had left her mouth.

Vader’s eyes had practically glowed with his frustration. “Because this is all there is!” he’d roared.

It was another variation on the theme of all his answers that night. “You can’t really believe that,” she’d finally snapped, voice desperate. “Anakin—“

“Is dead,” he’d insisted, not for the first time. But it had been hard for her to feel any weight behind the words as she’d stared into his face, even if it’d been a pair of golden eyes staring back at her.

“You would’ve been sick just thinking of all the things the Empire’s done!” All the things that he had done. “We were going to travel the galaxy after the war—we were going to free slaves!”

His end of their tattered bond had sparked suddenly, like a frayed wire, with his doubt before he forcibly shut her out. He’d slashed the air between them, rain evaporating with a hiss against his saber on the backswing. “Things change, Ahsoka!” Before her eyes the anger had seemed to collapse in on itself, cool into a deep sadness. “People leave—people die,” his voice had broken on the words, and her heart had broken for him, “and things change.”

“Not that much!” she’d argued, a pleading note bleeding into her voice, “This can’t really be what you want!”

“What I want,” he’d laughed bitterly, mouth twisting before he’d admitted, “No...this...isn’t what I wanted.” He’d raised his chin, then, the way she’d seen him do before the Council more times than she could count. “But that doesn’t matter. Keeping order is all that matters now, and that is what I fight for.”

“You fight for Palpatine,” she’d bit out accusingly, “That isn’t order, it’s fear.” She’d shaken her head; Ahsoka had picked up details as the Empire rose, of what had pushed him to his fall, but even then she’d refused to believe it was an irreversible thing. She just had to find the key. “You must be stronger than him,” she’d tried, once she had steadied herself again, “Why don’t you just kill him? That’s what the sith do, isn’t it?” She’d listened to enough of Maul’s ranting to make the reach. “You could take his place and bring true order to the Empire.”

He’d snorted, rolled his eyes at the idea, his imperious facade crumbling just a little more. “Me—” his voice was all sarcasm, “the Emperor’s mad dog?” Another bitter laugh as he’d straightened his back. “I’ve never wanted to be a ruling hand, Ahsoka.” His grip had tightened on the hilt of his lightsaber. “I am much more effective as a fist.”

Ahsoka had opened her mouth to respond, but he’d continued before she could; she hadn’t interrupted him. She had intended to let him rant himself out, in the hopes that he would give something away that could help her turn him to her reasoning. “If my strength alone were enough to keep the peace your rebels wouldn’t still be out there. No, my power needs someone with the strength to wield it, wield me, to hold the Empire together.” His expression had seemed somehow manic and exhausted at once, a look she remembered well from the Clone War. “Who else has the strength to stand in his place?” It had almost sounded like he was hoping she had an answer as the mania overtook the weariness. “Who would hold the mad dog’s leash? You?”

“Yes!”

Her answer had echoed like thunder in the space between them, as they’d stared at each other in stunned surprise. She’d said it without thinking...but a second later she’d known that she meant it. And just like that a plan had begun to shape itself, the ideas flowing almost faster than she could speak them. “The rebels will follow Fulcrum, and I have an in with enough influential senators—” His gaze had focused sharply on her at that, a predator’s notice, and she’d realized abruptly that she might’ve been letting herself say too much. But once she’d gotten going, once the possibility had seemed real, she couldn’t have stopped herself. Even then she wouldn’t have called her plan a perfect one but, with the right spin afterward, she’d felt a growing confidence that it would work. After all, her trial had been a better education than she’d have liked on how effective the art of spin could be.

Squaring her shoulders, she met his wide golden eyes and made sure that her voice didn’t waver. “If that’s what it takes to end Palpatine. Yes.”

For one inconceivable second hope had lit his eyes, his saber lowering. But then his earlier doubt had clouded them again. “This won’t end the way you want it to,” Vader had informed her as he’d shaken his head. “Your allies will never accept me.”

But Ahsoka had felt him waver and she wouldn’t throw away her chance. “I’ll make them,” she’d told him, resolute, “If that’s what it takes.”

He’d paused but only barely, extinguishing the red glow of his blade. “We’ll take him together.”

A flicker of movement reflected in the window drew her from her memories. Behind her Anakin was stirring; she could feel his eyes on her. Maybe her thoughts had woken him—it wouldn’t be the first time one of them had done that since they had dispatched the Emperor. A moment later he confirmed the theory as he projected a thought of his own, an image of her after the assassination as they’d recorded a transmission for broadcast to the Empire.

There had been a closet in the palace bigger than most rooms she had lived in, full of dresses in dark and shimmering tones; Vader had thought she should wear one for the address, to better look the part of a new Empress. She had refused—if image mattered, it wasn’t the one that she wanted to send to the rebels that would be watching. The one concession she had made then was to wear clothing that showed off the still-fresh electrical wounds she’d received from the Emperor as they’d fought.

Ahsoka crossed her arms over her chest, hands curling over the scars that still arced in jagged lines over her shoulders—they were more faded now, though healed only enough to keep them from hampering her movement. Momentarily transfixed by the pattern of them, she didn’t notice Anakin had left the bed until he dropped a kiss to the valley between her montrals before gently resting his chin there. “Your thoughts are loud tonight.”

She released a breath as a deep sigh, sinking back against him; as he folded his arms around her she found herself wrapped in a sheet he’d brought with him from the bed. Burrowing gratefully into the warmth of the embrace she turned her attention back to the window, found Anakin’s gaze fixed there as well. “Were you just watching me all this time?”

“Can you blame me?” He chuckled, the sound so much more pleasant than that from her memories. “I love seeing you where you belong.”

Snorting, she laughed herself. “What, in the Council chamber?”

He shook his head, arms winding around her a little more tightly. “With me.”

She offered a smile to their reflection before turning in his arms to drape her own about his neck, drew him down into a kiss; she could still taste herself on his lips. Another memory rose—close as they were, she couldn’t be sure who it belonged to—of the last of the negotiations they’d struck with the Senate’s chosen delegates as she’d established her place. They had wanted to know how she planned to proceed with the former Darth Vader, and they had not been pleased with her answer.

“For everything else,” she had told them, sincere but firm, “I’ll happily defer to your greater knowledge and experience. But not on this.”

Bail Organa had chosen to speak for the group, perhaps because of the time they’d spent working together. He’d kept his voice low as he’d attempted to reason with her, “But you know what he’s done, for years, for Palpatine—”

“And I know what he’ll spend the rest of his life doing!” She hadn’t meant to snap, had taken a breath to steady herself again. “For me.” A smile that she’d meant to be reassuring twitched at her lips. “You don’t have to worry. He’s mine now.”

It hadn’t been her intention when she’d hatched her plan, but it wasn’t too long after then that she’d taken him into her bed. 

Now, she could feel Anakin’s lips curve into a smile against her own as she parted from him. “The rain always makes the memories louder,” she murmured, running her fingers through his long hair, “Think you could do something about it?”

He leaned into her touch, heavy-lidded eyes gleaming in the low light. “I can certainly try.”

The first time he had tried to carry her she’d refused him. Since then she’d allowed it on occasion and tonight, as she felt the questioning pressure of his hands at her waist, she did again. He lifted her easily, their sheet falling ignored to the floor, and she wrapped her legs around his waist before he took them back to the bed, brushing his lips over her lek, her shoulder. Bowing low to deposit her gently atop the mattress, he lowered his mouth to the sweep of her collarbone, ghosted open-mouthed kisses over the pale arcs of scar tissue. He followed the jagged branches of them down her arm to her hand, cradling it in his own as he pressed his lips to her knuckles; she felt the words as much as heard them when he spoke. “What would you like, Empress?”

Ahsoka sighed out a soft, pleased sound; the only time the title felt real was when Anakin breathed it against her skin. She turned her hand in his grasp, wordlessly running her thumb over the fullness of his bottom lip. He smiled again, amused, and she felt the flicker of his tongue against the pad of her thumb before he pressed a quick kiss there, “Yes, Empress.”

He crept down her body as she opened her legs, settling between them. His lips followed the path set by her natural markings this time as he buried his face between her thighs. She gasped sharply as he licked into her, reaching down to tangle a hand in his hair as her hips bucked against his mouth. Ahsoka felt his touch everywhere, his hands closing on her hips, and then higher as the Force spilled over her in a languid wave. Sensations like hands and mouths, she couldn’t count how many, fluttering over her skin, teasing the spots he’d learned she liked best; her back arched up off the bed as tendrils wrapped her lekku and pulsed. “Yes, there—” she panted, writhing on his tongue, “Please, keep—keep—“

_He’s mine now_, her own voice echoed through her mind again. But this time the words came with a hard kick of pleasure—his—swelling up at the sound of her declaration. The feeling was so powerful, blending into her own, she was utterly consumed, a ragged cry tearing from her throat as she lost herself to the pleasure.

The sound of her shaky breathing was loud to her ears over the slowing rain as she came back to herself. When her eyes blinked open she found herself staring out the grand windows again. The bed she laid on had replaced a throne; it still didn’t take much effort for her to summon the image of the old Masters’ chairs in her mind. But she didn’t want to. No, better to focus on Anakin pressing kisses to the curve of her hip, her stomach, the feel of his hair under her hand. Things might never feel quite real again but, sometimes, they could still feel good.

“Come here,” she beckoned, earning a pleased hiss as her fingers briefly tightened in his hair, “Come here to me.”

He was already moving, settling over her this time; his hand cradled her cheek as her legs cradled his hips. “Yes, Empress.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can find me on tumblr @singmanyfaces if you want to drop by. :D


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